Teenagers.

I am thankful for teenagers.

They’re my job security.

But, of course, there are more important reasons than that.

There’s a song by My Chemical Romance that repeats the line, “Teenagers scare the living [feces] out of me.” Many people seem to agree: I’m always hearing about how frighteningly they drive, what attitudes they have, and their egregious sense of entitlement. There are days I agree on all three accounts, especially the driving. But often I think adults shortchange teenagers simply because that’s how we’ve always interacted with younger generations.

I think about the girl who told me a couple of weeks ago that her life was shattered because…wait for it…her boyfriend of two weeks broke up with her. I know, I know—“How could she love him after two weeks?” “It’s lust, not love.” “She’ll get over him in twenty-four hours.” “Teenagers think they invented love.” “There are so many other boys out there.” But here’s the thing: while the love of a teenager is different than the love of an adult, they’re loving to capacity. They’re expending their whole heart’s energies on their special person. Whether it’s Love or “love,” it feels the same to a teenager, and it’s crushing when it’s over. It sometimes leads them to unwise decisions and heartbreak, sure. But it’s also admirable. They do love like they’ve never been hurt. I don’t, not if I can help it. I love cautiously, sometimes pessimistically, even in non-romantic relationships. I’m always wondering, “What if I let myself trust these people, even rely on them, and then they leave?” My brain has people moving or passing away before we’ve spent two hours together. A teenager, on the other hand, loves recklessly, fiercely, enthusiastically. Their love might be fickle sometimes, but it’s also beautiful. Teenagers love first and ask questions later. Kind of like God.

And I love their honesty. Ask a teenager a question, and you get a real answer. “So, Josh, did you do your homework?” “No, I didn’t want to.” (Not that I’m suggesting we shirk responsibility. It’s the candor I admire, not the laziness.) We adults beat around the bush so often that we end up sugarcoating even when it would be beneficial to us to simply tell the truth. We tell the guy, “I didn’t call because I was busy,” rather than just being honest and saying, “It’s flattering, but I’m not interested.” We take on more than we can handle because we can’t bear for others to know we’re overwhelmed. We agree to go out to dinner or on vacation with friends when we know we don’t have the money, just so we don’t have to say, “I can’t afford it.” Perhaps the place that most desperately needs a dose of teenage transparency is the church. Why don’t we just say to each other, “I need you. Help me.” Or, “I screwed up, and now my heart is broken.” Or, “I can’t do this anymore.” We wouldn’t have to spin our wheels and internalize so much if we just got it out.

In short, I guess my favorite thing about teenagers is that even though they’re just as messy as adults are, they often aren’t afraid to let their messiness show—their big emotions, their confusion, their heartache. Their words don’t always come out right, they don’t always make the right decision, and they don’t yet have all the information and wisdom it takes to live successfully. But they go for it. They build things, start things, jump in. They’re scared, beautiful, weird, passionate, and goofy. And I am thankful for them and love them with my whole heart.